


The light at the end of the tunnel

by KenshinSusano



Category: Dark Souls
Genre: Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 17:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1718369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KenshinSusano/pseuds/KenshinSusano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick fic I did to honor a friend's request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The light at the end of the tunnel

The light at the end of the tunnel

* * *

 

“You never know how many times you’ve died. Especially when it’s happened so often that the times just meld together. Make one wrong turn and you’re impaled by a sword.” The old hollow nodded at the young bright eyed adventurer, one who was cursed with the darksign just like himself. “And the foes you’ve vanquished keep coming back to impede your progress. Sure you may gain momentary reprieve at the bonfires, places you can rest your weary feet, but it’s surely going to prove fatal. The enemies come back you see, so you’ve got to learn how to deal with them as fast as possible.” The old man’s eyes caught the gleam in the young adventurer’s eyes, so full of wonder and enthusiasm that would be forcibly taken from him as his journey went on.  “It’s not enough that you just die and come back to life, not for the gods of this realm. They have to give you a false sense of hope, that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel that if you run hard enough you can get to, but you’re brought back just as you get in arms reach of it. Back to this world of hate and death. It was just as bad a few hundred years ago.” The young adventurer had now taken a seat in front of the old man sitting around the bonfire in Majula.

“You were alive that long?” The young one asked, his voice sounding as if he hadn’t spoken in years. “How have you not forgotten who you are?” he sounded hopeful, as if the old warrior could help him survive at the worst points in his life.

“Easy, by not dying.” The old man answered. The younger man looked skeptic, eyes flicking down to the multiple cuts and scrapes on the elder’s armor and shield.

“But you’ve got so many battle scars, How did you survive the terror that was Lordran without dying?” the adventurer tilted his head, his curiousity likening him to a confused child. His own armor was bright, shining in the sunset that seemed to be eternal here at the town of crossroads, all the more evidence of his naivety.

“That is a secret, young one.” The old man chuckled, warming his hands at the bonfire in the cool air that never really followed any weather patterns. The large sword at his back thrummed with a strange and sort of fond energy, as if alive and able to reminisce with the older man. “You may call me Asmodeus, if you wish, youngling.” He grinned.

“And you may call me Caim.” The younger man nodded, offering a hand to Asmodeus.  “Is there anything you can tell me, help me with about this dangerous new world?” he asked, brows furrowed in frustration.

“There should be a road just down that way,” the elder pointed. Sure enough there was a hallway down into a strange passageway, its insides twisting and swaying as if distorted in time and space. “Although I have no clue what may happen to you if you went. Last I recall, that was what used to be Anor Londo, the city of the king. But it seems that after I defeated him in the kiln, the darkness had taken over the entire city and reduced it to ashes. I wonder if that old giant blacksmith is still there.” He mused, waving the younger adventurer off as he nodded his thanks.

“Thank you, Sir Asmodeus. I will go and see what I find and tell you the tale.” He grinned, his own sword jostling in its scabbard. As soon as he stepped foot over the threshold of the passage, he was gone from view.

“Good luck, young one.” Asmodeus muttered as he went back to staring into the bonfire, recollecting on his old memories fondly.

* * *

 

He had seen the young adventurer a few times, passing through the town and restocking some supplies. It was surprising to say the least when people started suddenly showing up and making the town feel more like a village and not a ghost town. He had taken to chatting with the old blacksmith Lorentias, finding that their shared enthusiasm for interesting and unique weapons had drawn them to be close confidants. The kid would show up holding some new sword, glowing with a strange power, and Asmodeus would direct him to the blacksmith.

The next time he saw the kid, he was wielding a rather familiar sword. Its faint blue glow and shape unmistakable to the old man. “Is that what I think it is?” He extended his hand, a silent request to see the sword in closer detail. As soon as his hand touched the hilt, the familiar surge of a soul resonated through him. “It is. This is the old sword of Seath the Scaleless. The Moonlight greatsword. Treat it well young one.” He handed the sword back to its new rightful owner, carefully observing the way it resonated with the young man. He figured if anyone could save this new world from its fate, it might just be this newcomer. He was making a frightful amount of headway in his journey in a relatively short amount of time.

The one time Caim had stopped in town for more than just a few hours he had spent regaling tales of his adventures to the elder, who had seemed more than pleased to hear all about the beautiful sights, and equally saddened by the revelation that his friend the giant blacksmith had gone insane and imprisoned the way it was. By the time the sun had risen, the young adventurer was gone again.

Asmodeus suddenly wished he had his youth back again.

* * *

 

He had just gotten used to the routine of things, people showing up every new day, and he would talk to everyone, get their story of why they decided to relocate to Majula, when a pillar of light shot up from the distance and was slowly growing wider and wider.

He suspected that the kid had done it, and finished his job as the world’s new savior. He didn’t know what would happen when the light reached him, but he figured it would finally all be over, and he would be allowed to truly die for the last time. The light grew closer, and with everything it passed, it all just dissolved into nothing. He gripped his sword and smiled sadly. “Goodbye, my old friend. I hope we can meet in the afterlife, Artorius.” He had said as the light washed over him, sending him to his final resting place after years and years of life and death.

And his last thought was about the kid, a simple praise for one who deserved it for defying all odds.

_Good Job, kid. You saved the world we’ve been suffering in._

 


End file.
